


The Skylines On Top Of The World

by PanBoleyn



Series: Know What You're Fighting For [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: ASoIaF Kink Meme, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-16
Updated: 2012-06-16
Packaged: 2017-11-07 20:47:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/435282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PanBoleyn/pseuds/PanBoleyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Myrcella has always been good at her lessons. For the kink meme prompt "Myrcella, perhaps future-fic Myrcella/Tommen - What my parents taught me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Skylines On Top Of The World

**Author's Note:**

> This is in response to the prompt found here: http://asoiafkinkmeme.livejournal.com/3041.html?thread=1181921#t1181921 
> 
> Tyrion is included as a 'parent' because he is Myrcella's legal father after Renly takes the Iron Throne, Robert for being her original legal father/actual stepfather. I considered adding Renly since Myrcella's his ward, but I couldn't find something that fit.
> 
> This fic takes place during and after some significant events that will be explored later, I promise. As for Jon Snow's new surname, 'Fitz-' was a prefix attached to surnames that meant "son of" in England. (Fitzroy being the best known example.) So his name means literally 'son of Stark'.

_Myrcella learns about twins from Mother and Uncle Jaime. They are close, as near to inseparable as they can possibly be. From them she learns what twins could be, and also, she thinks, what happens when a good person's other half pushes them to do bad things._

 

_Because Myrcella has always been sure, even as a small child, that Uncle Jaime is good. She knows this in the way she knows that Uncle Tyrion and Uncle Renly are good too, but Mother is scary and Joffrey is nasty, most of the time. Father... just doesn't care. Uncle Stannis she's never sure of. Mother is... There's something wrong with Mother, and with Uncle Jaime too, but Myrcella is sure that Mother caused it Uncle Jaime. Or, if she didn't cause it, it's still somehow because of her, because he thinks it will help her, something..._

 

_Even as she grows up, Myrcella can't put a finger on it. She suspects, later, that there is something broken in Uncle Jaime too and maybe it's not all Mother's fault, but by then the lesson is too deeply ingrained. So she avoids Joffrey, as her instinct would say anyway. She and Joff are twins too, they shared a womb, but Myrcella does not like to think of them as halves of a whole. Mirror images of each other, male and female and so opposing reflections, is what she thinks when she gets old enough to look at things in such a way._

 

_She will not let Joffrey pull her down the dark road her mother and Uncle Jaime travel hand-in-hand. She will not, whatever that may cost her in the end, in Joffrey's cruel touches now, when Father is alive, or the far worse things he will surely do when he has the power of the Crown. She knows how it will go then, and she refuses to allow it to happen to her._

 

Perhaps they expect her to be unhappy, to cry or even to flinch, to look away when Joffrey is dragged to the headsman's block. They surely expect Jaime and Cersei to fight to save each other, hopeless as everyone in Renly's court, in the Young Wolf's retinue knows it will be. Myrcella looks like Cersei, they whisper, and Joffrey has a look of Jaime, though less pronounced. They are twins, just like their mother and uncle/father, so of course they will react the same way.

 

Myrcella sees the surprise when she stands there, on Queen Margaery's right and a little behind her, her face composed and calm, green-gold eyes as cold as the matching ones of her grandfather. He will not die with Joffrey, or his eldest children; Oberyn Martell has claimed Tywin's life and he hasn't arrived yet. No one knows what to make of this, and she would laugh if such a sound wouldn't taste bitter on her tongue.

 

Joffrey is her twin, but he is the shadow that has dogged her steps. He is her dark half, what she could have found herself becoming had she let him lead her as he wished. Instead she struggled, and so she stands calm as his head comes off. It does feel like something has been severed from her, though, and not all she feels is the expected relief.

 

He was part of her, she realizes now, and that is when she learns the final part of the truth of twins; it's not a choice, entirely, to walk hand-in-hand down whatever path twins must travel in their lives. Even if they walk completely separately, some part of them will always be with the other even if they don't want it to be.

 

Myrcella vows that whatever of Joffrey is in her, it will only be the good that must have been in him once, what she remembers when they were small and played together. She will carry what little good her brother had, and if the gods are good, that will help her to erase his bad, whatever the cost. She is his twin, his other half, and so it is her responsibility, isn't it, just like it was Uncle Jaime's to protect Mother whatever it cost him?

 

~ ~ ~

 

_Robert Baratheon is many things. Some of those things are even good. When he genuinely cares about someone, he does so truly, and faithfully. It's just that he so rarely does. He doesn't care very much about his children, Myrcella has always known that. She remembers sitting on his lap – huge even then – and how he would pat her head absently, offer her a sweetmeat, but it was all so unnatural. He didn't really want to have her there, and so soon she decided she would rather have her uncles' company – even Uncle Stannis might be better, since he didn't hide his disinterest._

 

_Myrcella is not an outgoing child; she is shy, but very observant, which is how she knows her father doesn't want to be King. He seems to enjoy the perks of it, but Myrcella sees that he drinks all the heavier when Lord Arryn tries to speak to him about serious things. He laughs harder than ever, is filthier in his japes – she doesn't understand all of it, but she knows from the reactions of the courtiers how bad he is getting._

 

_It's interesting to see, how he hides his unhappiness by seeming more jovial than ever. Myrcella tries it, one day. Joffrey sits next to her at a feast, whispering awful things into her ear about the cat whose belly he cut up, to see the kittens inside, and Myrcella wants to cry. But she doesn't. Instead, she smiles, as brightly as she can. She even laughs a little, like Joffrey is telling some kind of wonderful joke. (No one else can hear his cruel, hissing murmurs in her ear, after all.)_

 

_Mother scolds her later for showing herself to be too cheerful in public, when she should always behave with a princess' decorum, while Uncle Jaime says to let her be, at least someone enjoyed the feast. Uncle Tyrion looks at her like he's not entirely sure he believed her smile, but he says nothing. She does it again, and again, until everyone believes her, until they say she is the happiest princess any girl could be._

 

King Renly puts a hand on Myrcella's shoulder when all the executions are done and apologizes quietly for the fact that she alone is left in the Red Keep. Uncle Tyrion has been banished from the capital, sent to Casterly Rock considerably poorer than he would have been otherwise, but he is the Lord of Casterly Rock. Tommen is with him, learning to be the next Lord, and Myrcella is here. She's a hostage for their good behavior and she knows it, but the King says that he still sees her as his niece, and wants to raise her here as his ward like Shireen, now the young Lady of Dragonstone. She will be happy here, he promises, and they are still family in all but name. Myrcella smiles and says that of course they still are, and she's happy to stay at court with them.

 

Myrcella laughs brightly when Queen Margaery says she is to be one of her ladies, a part of the new, glittering court. She smiles and murmurs about how it is such an honor, baseborn as she is – although Uncle Tyrion adopted her and Tommen as legitimate Lannisters, his heirs, the world knows and will never forget the truth. Technically, it is an honor, and after a brief, searching look, the Tyrell Queen seems to accent Myrcella's gratitude and joy as genuine.

 

The royal couple are not fools, but they are quite unable to see past a glittering facade, the one that Myrcella only lets drop when she is alone in her room. Renly thinks that they are still family, when he has banished Tyrion and Tommen, when he has killed Jaime? When she knows he'd have her dead in a moment if her brother and uncle misbehave, he truly thinks she will believe he cares for her at all? Margaery thinks she is happy to serve her, to be central in the court, when all Myrcella really wants is to go back to Casterly Rock, to explore it with Tommen and listen to Uncle Tyrion's stories and japes? She wants her family, her real family, or what is left of it. But no one ever guesses, no one will ever know, because Myrcella knows, thanks to Robert Baratheon, how to pretend to be happy when inside she's withering away.

 

~ ~ ~

 

_Myrcella hasn't ever understood why Mother hates Uncle Tyrion so much. She loves her uncle, he's her favorite. Oh, Uncle Jaime is always fun and willing to play, and Uncle Renly tells wonderful stories, but Uncle Tyrion's stories are even better. He can't play the same way Uncle Jaime can, but he always listens to Myrcella in a way no one else does._

 

_“You're a clever girl, 'Cella,” he says, tugging playfully on her curls._

 

_“Mother doesn't think so, she says I should be more like Joff. That he knows how to be a prince but I seem like a simpleton because I'm shy.”_

 

_Tyrion looks at her with his mismatched eyes, serious in a way he so rarely is, and then he leans close. “Do you want to know a secret, little lioness?”_

 

_Myrcella nods, excited. She loves secrets, always has, and Uncle Tyrion knows she won't ever tell because she likes to know what others don't. He whispers in her ear, “That is what makes you the cleverest of all. Because no one knows what you can do, they don't see. Trust me, I'm a dwarf. People think the same about me.”_

 

_Myrcella isn't entirely sure she understands this secret, but she nods, and promises to remember and to never tell anyone what he's said. She likes the idea that even being shy can make her clever, and she spends more time watching the people around her, because she's quiet and they don't notice her. It's clever to take advantage of that, isn't it?_

 

As a courtier/hostage, Myrcella soon learns that it is a very good idea if no one knows she's anything but what she appears to be; a pampered, silly-headed girl who is happy enough to stay at court and wear lovely clothes. She plays the part very well, it's easy to smile and simper, to pretend to be nothing but a ninny-in-waiting. It isn't long before people dismiss her, start to say things in her hearing that they really, really shouldn't.

 

She could win favor with King Renly for some of what she hears, things he really should know. But he has a Master of Whispers to do that for him, and why should she help a man who might kill her one day? Instead, she listens so that what she hears might do her some good. It's how she avoids marrying two old men and one awful one – the Tyrells would be all for it, anything to get the girl they still think might be a threat somehow out of the way. But a few comments here and there, seemingly irrelevant, and suddenly a reputation is just unsure enough that a royal ward certainly can't marry the person who carries it.

 

Myrcella's silliness is why she can still write to Sansa Stark. She and Sansa became friends when the girl was Joffrey's hostage, and Renly considers the frivolous writings of girls to be no concern, so the ravens can still fly between King's Landing and Winterfell. This is how Myrcella finds out that there's to be a reaffirming of the alliance between the North and the Iron Throne. She listens for rumors and it's easy enough to realize that Willas Tyrell will be one of those offered up as marriage fodder. Myrcella is surprised to find out she is the other southron being chosen, though, and would have shown it when Renly told her – she hates showing any true emotion in front of Renly, she trusts him with nothing now. Thankfully, those silly letters from Sansa let her know in advance about the marriage to Jon Fitzstark. A bastard for a bastard, why not?

 

Uncle Tyrion's (or is her father now? He is, legally, but...) advice has never seemed wiser.

 

~ ~ ~

 

_Myrcella has always been a little in awe of her Uncle Jaime. He's so... beautiful, golden-haired and emerald-eyed in his armor. Whether in pure white or shining gold, he is always impossible to look away from. And he seems like nothing hurts him, not ever. He shrugs at the title 'Kingslayer' and doesn't blink when Father orders him to stand guard outside the royal bedchamber – Myrcella isn't sure what goes on there, but whatever it is she's sure it's supposed to be something Uncle Jaime hates from the way her father gives the order. But he never seems bothered._

 

_Myrcella envies that, and so one day she asks him about it. “Uncle Jaime, how does nothing ever bother you?”_

 

_And he laughs, but it isn't his usual laugh. He looks sad, and Myrcella wants to apologize, but he hushes her before she can. “No, it's fine, sweetling. The truth is, I told myself I didn't care, until one day I didn't anymore.”_

 

_That sounds very simple. It can't be that simple, Myrcella thinks, thinking of Joffrey and how he pinches and pulls, how cruel and hurting he can be. “But... But what if it's a bad thing, very very bad, so that you can't pretend until the pretending is real? What do you do then?”_

 

_Uncle Jaime sighs, and brushes a bit of hair back from Myrcella's face. “Well, then you think of something else, something happy, and pretend you're back in that moment until the bad thing's over with. Does that help?”_

 

_Myrcella nods, and starts thinking of good memories to hold onto, because she might need them._

 

It isn't easy to watch Cersei die, but it's not terrible either. The cold truth is that while Myrcella loves her mother, Cersei never really loved her, and that made some of Myrcella's affection fade. Besides, she takes some comfort in that her mother dies as she lived, proud and unapologetic, with one final mocking look at Renly and Margaery, at Robb Stark and those who flank him. Her last glance at Myrcella is an echo of the look her mother gave her before she and Sansa were spirited to Casterly Rock, away from the coming armies of the stag and the direwolf. Remember who you are, a lioness, Cersei had said then, and her eyes tell Myrcella to do the same now. Myrcella nods a little, a promise to do just that.

 

Her mother's death hurts but it is when Jaime is brought out next that she cannot bear it. Her uncle – her _father_ – looks broken, his green eyes dull and blank, and she knows why. Because Mother is dead. She wants to run to him, to hug him and say farewell, since she can't save him, but she knows better. She has to not care, to pretend not to until she means it, until the act is her truth. But when Uncle Jaime is kneeling before the block, his eyes suddenly bright and alive again, defiant, Myrcella can't. It's too real, the lump in her throat is making it hard to breathe and her eyes burn with the tears she has to hold back.

 

So she focuses on a spot above where the execution is about to happen, on the bright blue sky, and she thinks about a day when the sky was the same cloudless blue. Just her and Tommen, Uncle Tyrion and Uncle Jaime. She thinks about Uncle Jaime tossing her up, high and higher until all the world was that blue sky, and she hears all of them laughing again.

 

The imagined laughter and the smells of summer keep her from hearing the thunk of the axe or smelling the copper tang of blood, and she doesn't come back to the real world until Shireen Baratheon tentatively reaches out to tap her shoulder.

 

~ ~ ~

 

_“Mother, why do you hate Father?” Myrcella doesn't mean to ask that, on their last day in Winterfell, but she can't help it. She's heard of Lord Eddard's sister Lyanna, of course, knows her father fought the rebellion for her but she died anyway. But it all seems so much more real now, maybe because Joffrey's supposed to marry a different Stark girl?_

 

_Cersei is silent for a moment. She is brushing Myrcella's hair, the gesture an oddly affectionate one – and a very rare thing – from Myrcella's distant mother. Their eyes, emerald and green-gold, meet in the mirror, and for a long moment Myrcella thinks she is in trouble, that Cersei won't answer and may even strike her with the brush. But then Cersei relaxes, and goes back to brushing. Her strokes are too harsh but then they always are. So the moment will pass as though it never happened, which is better than trouble._

 

_“He wanted me to be the Stark girl. He called me that on our wedding night, and I won't forgive him, as he won't forgive me for not being Lyanna Stark.” It is the bluntest, most honest thing Cersei has ever said to her daughter, and the surprise makes Myrcella stare at her. Cersei tskes._

 

_“Don't look so wide-eyed, you'll seem insipid,” she says sharply. The moment is gone, but Myrcella can't forget it. So that's why. Her parents have a horrible marriage, and she used to think it was because it was arranged, but plenty of people at court have arranged marriages and they seem happy enough. So it wasn't that._

 

_It was this. It was the ghost of a woman long dead, that Father couldn't forget and Mother couldn't banish. Myrcella won't forget either – she doesn't know why yet, exactly, but she senses this could be something she needs to know for herself._

 

Jon Fitzstark, legitimized brother to King Robb, is a kind enough husband. He's quiet and often grim, especially as they've moved to his holdfast of Black Tower. He and his men talk about the Others more than Myrcella thinks they need to be talked about – they have to be killed, that's all, isn't it? They have the dragonglass blades to do it, plenty once the multitude of obsidian at Dragonstone was given to them and the Watch.

 

But though they seem to have little in common as of yet – it's early days, she has some hope – they get on well enough together. He's not one to hit his wife, as Robert sometimes was, nor does he take his true pleasures with men, or even one man, as everyone quietly knows Renly does. And she has no reason to look on him with Cersei's disdain, or find her own pleasures with her ladies as Margaery does. Myrcella supposes she's happy enough with his quiet respect for her, his unsure courtesy – he was raised a bastard, and was on the Wall for some time, he never expected to have a wife and seems unsure of how to be a husband. Myrcella doesn't know how a proper wife ought to be in private, only the public show of it, so they can learn together.

 

Even the marriage bed is not unpleasant. Jon has some degree of skill, and Myrcella is a fast learner, and besides she'd listened to the whispers about bedsport for years. She knows how to do things even if she's never done them. Jon says no words when they bed together – he is not silent, but all sounds are just that, no language to them. He never calls her by another woman's name – they whisper that King Robb called Queen Roslin 'Jeyne' on their wedding night and it was a long time before she forgave him.

 

No, it's not then, it's later. When Jon is sleeping and Myrcella, who has not slept well since she saw her mother and natural father executed, is lying awake and thinking of the next letter she will write to Tommen at Casterly Rock or Sansa at Highgarden. Her husband turns his head into his pillow and murmurs, “Ygritte.”

 

The first time, she was angry. Relieved he at least didn't mix her up with this woman, whoever she was, but angry that he clings to her now that he is married. Then she was bitter, thinking that her marriage will end as full of hate as her mother's. But now, tonight, suddenly she decides no. She will not be Cersei come again, she refuses to let her mother's story be hers.

 

So Jon still dreams of this Ygritte? Well, he will not do so forever. Myrcella will make sure he forgets all about her, until he whispers Myrcella's name in his dreams and against her skin. She will not let some ghost defeat her.


End file.
